The Meaning of Forever
by timeturnings
Summary: *UNDERGOING REVISION* - I knew the moment I met you that you'd make my life so much more complicated. I didn't want to care so much about you, but everything you did was so special and carefree, I couldn't resist. We said forever- but what's the meaning of forever anyway?
1. Bells Ringin'

**Author's Note:**** Hello! Just here to clarify that a) this is not a Mary-Sue b) it is a OC romance c) there is language and suggestive themes and d) please, please, _please _no flames. Thanks and enjoy!**

_**Chapter 1:**_

_**Bell's Ringin'**_

I was dreaming. I had to be, otherwise I wouldn't be the size of a toddler, and my Ma wouldn't have been there. But I was indeed small- or smaller than I usually was, being only 5 foot 2- and there Ma was, looking translucently beautiful as she had before The Incident- long mahogany tresses brushing her waist in gentle waves, pale ivory skin radiating healthily from within, soft green eyes glowing with unspoken purity. Best of all, she was _alive, _and grinning lovingly down at me. Her soft hand brushed over my hair and she murmured "I love you, my little Bell. Don't you ever forget that."

"I won't, Mama- I promise!" I reached out my child-sized hands to her, hungry for her attention. As she lifted me up to her chest, I slowly felt myself melt into her warm embrace. She began to hum a lullaby from when I was a child; in the back of my mind I remembered it being about a farmer who lost his sheep. It was, like most nursery songs, filled with pointless morals and had a terrible rhyme scheme, but it was filled with happy memories.

I snuggled deeper into her collarbone, feeling her sweet, nutmeg-scented breath ticking my cheek. "Don't leave me, Mama." I whispered into her soft skin. "I don't wanna wake up and go back to hawkin' headlines- I wanna stay here with you forever."

My mother sighed, gently pulling me away from her and placing me on the ground. "You can't stay here, Bell. This is not your place." I gasped at her rejection, tears burning my eyes and spilling onto my porcelain cheeks.

Ma smiled comfortingly, placing her hands gently on my small shoulders. "But don't worry, my little Bell-girl," She brushed stray lock of my coppery hair away from my face. "I'll always be with you."

I smiled through my tears, feeling the emotions that I'd hidden from the world well up inside me. I reached up and touched her smooth, pale cheek- It was all I could do to stop myself from grabbing her in a bone-crushing hug and sobbing uncontrollably into Ma's shoulder.

"I love you, Ma."

Ma opened her mouth to reply, her eyes twinkling down on me like stars. But before she could say a thing, she began wildly shaking my shoulders.

"Wake up, Bell! You're gonna be late!"

I watched in dismay as my Ma and the dream dissipated and was replaced by a grinning Jack Kelly. The handsome Newsie brushed the hair out of my face and tweaked my nose cheekily.

"G'morning, lovely."

I groaned and rolled over, throwing my blankets over my head to try to block out the noise level increasing around me.

"C'mon, Bellie-girl, up ya get!" The breath was squeezed out of me as Racetrack belly-flopped onto me.

"Ow." I hissed shortly. I made a feeble attempted to push him off, but Race only grabbed my arm and started tickling the inside of my wrist, where he knew I was most ticklish.

I started giggling madly and wriggling around like a fish out of water. "Stopstopstopstopstopppppp!" I squealed, kicking my legs out to try and dislodge them from the bed. Jack caught my foot and began to tickle my feet as well. It was enough to make a girl go mad.

"Mercy! Mercy! Parlay! Jack, Race, I call for parlay!" I cried, jerking around wildly as Jack and Race laughed at me.

"Parlays only on the ocean, doll." Jack snickered down at me. "Here you gotta do this thing called gettin' up and embracin' the day." He ran his fingertips up my bare calf, sending tickly shivers up my spine.

I scrunched my mouth into a flat line, giving him a look of pure childish impudence. "Stop violating my personal space, Kelly." I crossed my arms over my chest, staring him down darkly.

"You better watch out, Jack- that's her 'slit-your-throat-while-you're-sleepin'' glare." Race laughed good-naturedly, rumpling my hair.

I rolled my eyes, taking my pillow and decking them both neatly across the face. Taking advantage of their momentary stunning, I wriggled off the opposite side of my bunk and made a mad dash for the wash room. The sound of their pursuit quickly caught up to me, sending my into a fit of nervous giggles as I ran faster. But it was all for nothing, as Jack cut through another way and caught me just as I'd reached the door.

With a satisfied, "Gotcha!" he picked me up by my waist and threw me over his shoulder. I squirmed and laughed as Jack carried me into the wash room tossed on his back. The other boys cracked up as Jack paraded me around, flaunting his amazing catch while I crossed my arms and looked resigned.

Satisfied that he'd humiliated me to the fullest extent, Jack took me by the hips and swung me back down to the floor.

"I win again." He announced proudly, rumpling my hair for good measure. "Now go clean yourself up a bit- your hair's lookin' a bit… messy."

"Oh, shuddup, Kelly." I rolled my eyes cheekily, but flashed him a smile before going off to find a place at the sinks.

I secured a place between Mush and Kid Blink, who were kind enough to scoot over and give me some room while I 'preened'. Mush grinned teasingly at me, flicking a strand of my hair.

"Did ya sleep in a bird's nest last night, Bell, or is your hair always that spiked up?"

"Is it really _that _bad, Mush?" I asked worriedly. He moved over a scootch and I gasped as I saw my reflection. A groan escaped me as I raised my hands to the tangled mess on my head. "Shit."

It looked unbelievably knotted, the thick, wavy strands of auburn-and-gold matted together like a messed up yo-yo string. It was impossible to save it now, when the tangles were dried together, but if I got it wet, I could work them out with a comb.

I excused myself from Blinky and Mush for a moment, heading over to the water pump. I heaved it a few times, watching the crystal-clear water come gushing from the tap. Holding my breath, I stuck my head under the stream of cold liquid, feeling it soak straight through to my scalp within seconds of being under the tap.

When I was sure it was soaked enough, I grabbed a comb from the side table and ran it through a lock of auburn hair experimentally. When it didn't catch on anything, I quickly finished combing back the rest of my hair without further issue.

After that was taken care of, I scrubbed my arms with some soap and splashed water on my face. Done with the cleaning process, I headed back to my bunk to get dressed.

After putting on a pair of clean grey shorts and a comfy blue top, I secured my newsie's cap atop my damp copper ringlets and was ready to go.

"Heya, Bell." Race joined me going down the stairs. "You look nice and awake now." A smile flickered across his lips as I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Laugh while you can, Racetrack Higgins, because I'm already planning my revenge." I smirked pleasantly at him.

"Well, we're feisty this morning, ain't we?" I giggled and punched him lightly in the arm, only to get punched back with equal playfulness as we continued down the stairs and out of the building.

We took our usual route to get to the distribution center- past Mortie's for breakfast, through the central square for a look at the headlines, and then over to Pulitzer and Hearst for our papes.

Race and I got in the already growing line together. He was going on about some filly in the races he had a hot tip on.

"They say she's got at _least _a 60% chance of winnin'." Racetrack announced. When I gave him a confused look, he added, "If you went to the races more often, you'd understand what a big deal that is."

"Okay, well," I rubbed the back of my neck- it was my nervous habit. "Congratulations?"

Race gave me a wry smile. "Congratulate me when the ol' girl wins."

I nodded and smiled, even though I had no idea what he was talking about. It was my turn in line, so I stepped up to the grating, offering a big, sunny smile to the distributor leafing through the papers behind him. "Hiya, Weasel. How's life treatin' ya?"

The potbellied man glared up at me with small, beady eyes. "It's Wiezel. _Mr. _Wiezel, to you. And it's been fine- just hunky-dory."

I completely ignored his sarcastic tone, shoving fifty cents at him from under the grate. "I'll take fifty papes, if ya don't mind, _Weasel._"

The boys behind me snickered. Weasel glowered at me for a second, then nodded to his nephew, Oscar, who promptly shoved the papers at me.

"There ya go toots, fifty papes." My stomach tightened uncomfortably as I caught him smirking at my chest- Oscar was about as creepy as creepy gets, and he seemed to have a thing for me, which was scary in itself.

Fed up with his wandering gaze, I stared him dead in the eye. "Fuck off, Oscar." I hissed menacingly, then turned on my heel and stormed away.

Typical morning for Bell Brooks.

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><p>My day went as planned- selling papes on street corners, in parks, and anywhere else I could find. By the time I sold the last paper, I was dragging. It took an amazing amount of effort to drag myself upstairs, change into my nightgown, and crawl into bed.<p>

Racetrack rolled over as my head hit the pillow with a loud thump. "Goodnight, Bell-girl. Sleep well."

"You too, Race." I smiled tiredly just as I dropped off into sleep.

Usually when I dreamed, it was about my mother- bless her pure, angelic soul- but tonight was different. Tonight was outright, bloodcurdling scary. I was running through dark, narrow passages alone, my breath coming out in great, husky gasps. The sky thundered ominously, clouds as dark as night glowering down on me. I shivered, feeling an icy wind rake my exposed flesh, but didn't stop running. I hear angry shouts echoing in the corridor behind me, the pounding of heavy boots growing closer. I glanced over my shoulder just to check how close they were-

And that's when I felt somebody grab me.

I screamed and writhed in their grasp, desperate for someone, anyone, to help me. A hand clamped over my mouth, drawing me into the shadows. I kicked and fought but to no avail- he drug me all the way back into a tiny nook between two buildings. I frantically lashed out one last time, but he caught me by the wrist, twirling me around to face him.

"Bell!" He hissed in my ear. "Stop struggling! It's only _me!" _I stiffened at that bitterly familiar voice.

"Spot?"

"Bell! Bell!"

"Huh?"

"_Wake up, Bell!"_

I shot up from my pillow, electrified and surprised. And smacked my head into the bottom of Mush's bunk.

"Owwww…" I moaned, grabbing my throbbing forehead. It took me a second to realize Racetrack was kneeling by my bedside, as was Jack, Mush, Skittery, and everyone else residing in the general vicinity. I glanced around at their worried faces, puzzled. "Whas wrong?"

The boys exchanged troubled glances, and no one said anything for a minute. Then Jack finally said, "You were _screaming._ I thought someone was tryin' to _murder _you."

"Ah…" I nodded slowly, as if I understood. "Sorry 'bout that, I guess. But if you don't mind me askin', what was I screaming about?"

More worried glances and a longer, tenser silence, this time broken by Racetrack.

"Well… you said something like 'help me' a bunch, then you sorta…" He bit his bottom lip nervously. "Called out for someone."

A cold feeling was creeping into my stomach. "Who?" I asked slowly and deliberately. Race looked even more uncomfortable, but he answered clearly and truthfully.

"Bell, you were asking for help from Spot Conlon."


	2. Barn Cats Have Hidden Claws

**Author's Note:**** Well, I haven't updated in awhile… I apologize, my peoples. In my defense, I didn't have an internet connection for a few days, so I couldn't update with my **_**multiple awesomesauce **_**chappies I've been writing. Oh well, on with the UPDATE SPLURGE! **

**And I've already gotten an excited fan! Thank you, DiAmOnDsrBlUe, for your support! Your enthusiasm is much appreciated by your fellow author.**

**Also, she brought up an excellent point- I'd love to have some of your characters in my story. It would be so much fun to write about! One has already been incorporated into the story below, and I can already think of many more that could be integrated later on. Please send me a PM or leave a review with the basic information about your character if you're interested. Great idea!**

**And J is Poker with a J: Yes, I've read it, and **_**loved **_**it. I am aware of the slight 'Spot dream' parallel, but the story isn't going to revolve around night terrors like **_**Sunrise In New York **_**does. The 'Spot dream' was really a chance for us to see that Bell has a past with him… 'the bitterly familiar voice' and all (: But no spoilers for you! You must read! And you must enjoy! Well, I mostly hope you do… but that's just me. **

**So please review! Knowing someone enjoys my writings really makes my day (and I'm currently having a tough one…) So, save a platypus and review!**

**-V**

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><p><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong>** I only have possession of my OC, Bell Brooks, and the character Candy is owned and contributed to this story on her own will by DiAmOnDsrBlUe. I do not own any characters created by Disney. Although I wouldn't mind owning Spot… Then again, who wouldn't?**

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><p><strong>WARNING:<strong>** This story contains cursing and mild romantic stitches. But, as a ci****vilized young lady with morals, I can assure you that there will be no vulgar or graphic descriptions involved. **

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 2:<strong>_

_**Barn Cats Have Hidden Claws**_

I stared at the bottom of Mush's bunk fixatedly, trying to wear out my mind as it raced with complicated questions and mixed emotions. I rolled onto my side and willed myself to sleep, but there was no way I could possibly sleep after what had happened.

Once I'd managed to calm Race down- he thought I was hallucinating- Jack had sent everyone back to bed with a firm command to stay there till morning or he'd "slap you to Harlem and back". Knowing that anything Jack said he meant, the crowd around my bed had dispersed quickly after that. I was now surrounded by the typical snoring, snuffling, and other sleep noises I was so used to in the crowded Lodging House, only they weren't comforting and cozy like they usually were- everything seemed too loud, too hot, too stuffy, with no room to think. Think about my dream, that is.

I have absolutely no idea what it was about, only that it was downright terrifying. Why was I being chased down a dark and unfamiliar street? Who were those people running after me and what did they have against me? And why in the name of saltwater taffy was I dreaming about the infamous _Spot Conlon _saving me? That in itself was ridiculous- Spot didn't care about anyone. Anyone. At least the Spot I knew didn't.

There. I said it. I knew Spot. Call me a dreamer, but I like to think that I'd known him better than most people. Back when we'd been friends- it'd be six years in a few weeks- He'd been different. He'd been fun, sweet, _caring. _Back then he wasn't the feared Spot Conlon.

He'd been my best friend, my closest companion. He was there to dry my tears, to make me laugh, to take care of me when I needed someone to.

He'd been Damien.

And then suddenly, he'd started rushing up the Brooklyn Newsboy ladder. He'd grown and changed and… become Spot. For awhile we managed to stay friends; I worked hard to gain respect among the other newsies in Brooklyn, sometimes working two other jobs just to show I worked hard and was just as tough as them. To make Damien proud.

But it was never enough for Spot. What Damien would have been proud of just didn't cut it with Spot, and I was constantly getting reprimanded or ignored. It was hell. I was miserable but too blinded by my devotion to our friendship for me to see that it was dying.

So when I caught Spot messing around with some redheaded slut, it pretty much did it for me. I scraped up my few possessions along with my broken heart and left Brooklyn for good.

No one knew I was leaving- hell, they wouldn't have cared anyway. I knew Spot would be absolutely furious when he found out I'd jumped ship and I wanted him to be; let him hate me. Let him curse me to hell a thousand times. Nothing could compare to the pain in my chest when I realized that Damien was dead. And replaced by this… this monster.

But even with that blinding pain driving me, there was only so much a ten-year-old girl could do on her own. I needed a home with people to watch out for me. Unfortunately, there weren't a lot of people willing to take in a dirty street urchin such as myself.

But I'd been amazingly lucky that day. If it hadn't been for Race, I'd probably still be sleeping behind the local butcher shops' trash bins, wasting away to nothing. He'd been my first real friend in Manhattan- we'd both quickly realized our shared love for horses and bonded over that. Race had actually been the one to score me a job at Sheepshead Stables- I'd been balancing selling papes with my groom schedule for the last six years…

I shot up in bed for the second time- though I thankfully avoided hitting my head on the bottom of Mush's bunk again- and groaned softly.

It was Wednesday. I'd promised McKilney that I'd run the Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday schedule this week… shit.

Sighing and shaking the cloudy thoughts from my head, I rose from my bed quietly, careful not to make the springs squeak too much. Once successfully upright, I changed into my faded denim riding pants and a worn green shirt. I slipped my grey newsboy cap over my tousled auburn mane, grabbed my boots so they wouldn't click on the floor and wake everybody up, and tiptoed out of the room.

I stopped when I reached Jack's door, pressing my ear against the scarred oaken frame and listening for his snores. It took me a second to locate them, but I recognized his breathing; it was relaxed and even, meaning he was deeply asleep. Good. I continued to and down the stairs, wincing a little as each step creaked under my bare feet. It seemed to take forever to reach the bottom landing, but the soles of my feet finally hit the floor. I slipped my boots on and took off out the door.

It wasn't that far to Sheepshead, about a fifteen minute walk. Seeing as it was barely dawn, I took my time.

I tossed an early vendor a few pennies for a bag of apples. It was a serious dent in my funds, but Ian McKilney, the manager of Sheepshead Stables, always paid me lavishly when I'd work a full day at the stables. He was constantly trying to coax me out of the pape business to come be a real stable hand.

"C'mon, Brooks!" He'd always exclaim in his heavily Irish-accented voice, rubbing his hands over his stubbly, leprechaun-red beard like he did when he was anxious. "You'd get paid twice as much for doing something you love, takin' care of horses, instead of scamperin' around with a bunch o' street hawkers. Plus," McKilney's green eyes sparkled good-naturedly. "Ya might even get ta race one o' these days."

I shook my head and went back to brushing the mane of the horse I was preparing. "Yeah right, McKilney, like Angelica would even let her darling father consider allowing a girl like me to ride in her oh so precious races." My voice rose mockingly when I said 'darling father'. Angelica Harrows wasn't my favorite person in the world; the snotty blonde was a hoity-toity slut and a famous gold-digger in these parts. We hadn't gotten along since day one and probably never would.

McKilney's playful green eyes instantly narrowed into dark Irish rage. "I don' get why Harrows even listens to tha' lit'le…"

"Yes, _a fhios agam cad is ciall agat, _McKilney." (_I know what you mean)_ I murmured quietly in Irish- he'd been teaching me for the last five years. I was practically fluent now and we'd have full conversations in his native language almost every day. "Angelica _den sort sin amadan._" (_Is such a fool)_

The handsome twenty-something horseman would sigh angrily and glare off at something over my head. "_Cuí sí__úinéireacht__sí__an chathair seo__ach__toisc go mbíonn ar__a hathair__rachmais." (__she thinks she owns this city just because her father has wealth)_ "_Thiomáineann__sé__dÚsachtach__dom__cé chomh mór__is__a__ego." (it drives me crazy how big her ego is)_

We'd argue back and forth about different ways she could die mysteriously and accidently while I finished grooming horses, then we'd both go back to our respective lives.

As my head floated through these confrontations again and again, I found myself wondering in the back of my mind why I _didn't _give up headlining for horses. I hadn't lied to Ma in my dream- I honestly disliked screaming overdramatized titles, rain or shine, all day, every day. Plus, it was hard to fit in my busy horse schedule when I barely had any time to get away from those goddamn papes.

The morning edition was out at seven thirty sharp, then I'd sell until twelve and have two hours before the afternoon edition came out. I'd get my papes at two thirty in the afternoon and sell till five. I would have dinner with the boys and fall into bed around ten. The only time other than between dinner and bed was the sliver of time between selling the morning edition and the afternoon edition coming out. It was two hours. Two measly hours to exercise, feed, groom, and care for twelve antsy race horses- and that wasn't even including the young stallions that needed lunging and training daily, or the baby filly that was being halter-broken. Two hours would never fit all that.

And so I flitted from world to world. I'd come in for my two hours, take care of the easy stuff- like halter-breaking the foal and riding the older horses that needed just a little physical activity to tire them- then go back for the afternoon edition, eat dinner with the newsies, and run back to the stables for the rest of my job. I'd started getting in even later when I adopted this strategy, collapsing into bed around eleven or twelve and would be drained and cranky in the morning, but a few cups of Mortie's extra-strong coffee- extra-strong because of the tiny bit of brandy he'd knock in there at my request- and I was spryer than a chipmunk on caffeine and a touch of alcohol.

It was an absolutely draining agenda, but I got everything I wanted to get out of life from it, and so that's what happened. But occasionally I'd bypass the newspaper aspect for a day and give my full attention to horses. These days were few and far between, but McKilney would pay me double for every full day I worked, so it was worth it. Plus, I got to see my farm friends more for that day, which was nice.

"Hey, Bell!"

"Speak of the devil," I grinned at the familiar voice, stopping and turning around to let a petite girl catch up with me. "I was just thinkin' about you, Candy."

"Lucky me." Candy smiled breathlessly, her tan cheeks flushed pale primrose pink from running. She brushed back her long, glossy, black barrel curls away from her heart-shaped face, revealing a spat of pale freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She'd outlined her almond-shaped eyes with black kohl, the sharp color really bringing out the green flecks in her sharp grey eyes.

Candy was barely thirteen, her birthday only a week past, but with her enviable hourglass figure and those piercing grey-green eyes she looked closer to my age, sixteen. I covered my smirk; that's how the little minx had scored Dutchy.

Two years ago, the dumbass asked her out, thinking she was fifteen. After finding out she was only eleven and both of them freaking out a bit, they decided to stay together despite the four-year age gap.

And, somehow in the chaos of all that, I'd bonded with Candy. It turned out she worked at the same stables I did, loved music, and despised the color orange- it was truly disgusting, I have yet to see something orange that's attractive- and we just clicked. Candy was one of my closest friends, right up there with Race and Jack. We were practically inseparable.

"So," Candy spoke softly, her voice jarring me from my thoughts. "You lunging Fiore today?"

"Nope." I shook my head lightly, copper-and-auburn waves rustling around my shoulders and down my back. "His client wants to run him today. I'll do Piccadilly, Reese, Siam, Hamlet, Patchy, Yvonne, and… Brandi."

Candy nodded, gazing ahead and flicking a strand of thick raven hair. "So I'll get Rio, Spencer, Daphne, Xavier, Hannah, Blue, Wieldier, and Camino."

I shot her a dark look. "You forgot Lucky."

Candy held up her hands defensively, widening her already huge grey-green eyes innocently. "Woah, Barn Cat, don't claw me." She joked lightly, using my pet name to soften me. It worked. "I just assumed _you'd_ take care of _your _horse without needing to be reminded."

I sighed. "Lucky's hardly _my _horse." Candy snorted, scuffing a boot on the cobblestone road.

"_Please," _She smirked playfully, elbowing me in the ribs. "McKilney himself said Lucky was yours. And he'll only behave with _you."_

I snorted, turning my face away from her to gaze at the shops we were passing, just so she couldn't see my blush. It _was _true; McKilney had declared that Lucky was _my _horse, and that no one should touch him without my consent. Not that it mattered- I was the only one who could get close to that damned vixen without getting stomped to a pulp. But Lucky was devoted to me- only me, at that- and would probably jump off the Brooklyn Bridge if I asked. Not that I ever would.

Because, despite my many, _many _complaints about Mr. Happy Go Lucky, I loved that stallion more than anything. He was my baby. I loved everything he'd do specially for me- the way he'd whicker in greeting when I'd come into his stall; the way his ears pricked up whenever I talked to him, like he was actually listening and comprehending my words; how, when the other race horses were getting tacked up to go out and compete, he'd gaze at me through the stall window all mournfully, almost as if he was begging me to go. Lucky was my best friend. He had those qualities that no human ever could and I loved that. I loved how I was the only one he'd let come close to him. I loved how he only trusted _me_ enough to come near and not hurt him. That made him my special, and me, his. Not that anyone would ever know any of this. I had a barn reputation for not going easy on horses_. _No nonsense, no hand-holding, no exceptions. I was sure glad I didn't have to deal with a human like this, because they'd probably think I'm bipolar and shifty.

"Bell Brooks!" I jumped at Candy's insistent voice, suddenly realizing we'd made it all the way to the stables and she'd been talking the whole time I'd been engrossed in my thoughts. "Are you _listening _to me_?_"

"Um…" I blinked a few times until I could grasp the meaning of her words. "No, no I'm not. Could you say it again, perchance?"

Candy heaved a sigh that trumped all exasperated dispersions of air. "I _said, _Bell, that you know I'm taking care of Ellice today?"

I nodded quickly- Candy taking care of the foal today would open up my day massively. "Thanks, Candycane." I grinned briefly before heading off to tend to my horses.

"We're meeting the boys at Mortie's for lunch!" She called after me. "Don't forget!"

"I won't- I'm not a total idiot!" I threw over my shoulder as I jogged towards my hallway.

"Yes you are!"

"Shut up!" I giggled before I waved goodbye and lost her around a corner.

I came to a stop at the end of a long hallway. All the way down, horses stuck their heads out in curiosity, neighing softly in greeting when they saw me. A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth as the overpowering smell of the stables hit me- barley, manure, and sweat. Most people would hate it, but I honestly couldn't think of anything more electrifying.

_I'd like to see Spot here my world, _thought smugly, _he would never last a day in _my_ Brooklyn. _

I clenched my hands into fists of determination and got to work.


	3. Secrets That Hurt Aren't Really Secrets

**Author's Note:** **What's this? I. Am. Alive! Huzzahh! Thank you for your patience for the last… month? Few weeks? Blah? Yay.**

**So I won't keep you with a huge author's note this time- continue on and enjoy this chappie! Or don't enjoy it. In which case… I BANISH YOU. **

**So there.**

**(:**

**-V**

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><p><strong>REVIEW RESPONSES: <strong>

Austra: Thank you for bringing that up, actually. I'd like to take this time to announce that _none _of my stories will _ever _be Mary Sues. _Ever. _I can't stand them and try my best to avoid reading them. This isn't because the people writing them aren't good writers, I just dislike people inserting perfected versions of themselves into stories. So, when I added that little 'porcelain cheeks' thing in there, it was because my character, Bell Brooks, like most of the women population back then, had very fair skin. Not only was it the style, it was simply a hereditary thing. That was in no way trying to make her perfect- she isn't. Not at all. But thanks for showing concern at the chance of a cliché and for reviewing!

DiAmOnDsrBlUe: I really do appreciate how involved with the story you're getting. Nothing's more motivational than an appreciative reader- it makes me want to write more(: Thanks for your undying support!

TheFlyingSeal: Yes, in fact, I _do _need more characters. Thanks for submitting some great ones!

Angelbaby63: Well, thank you very much! I did try to avoid accidently borrowing any of _Sunrise in New York_'s themes, because I just can't stand plagiarism… ick. But it _is _pretty hard coming up with original ideas, because almost all Spot x OC premises are already used in the Fanfiction world. It's great to know that I found something quite innovative and all my own! P.S.- Yes, I was super excited to use Gealic(: Having McKilney sort of manifested from Kloppman, really; a mentor type character. Only more handsome and Irish…

And lastly, but not leastly, (which isn't a word, but now it is)

Joker is Poker with a J:  Yes, writing about Spot being a male prostitute at a young age was hilarious(: And yay! I'm not cliché anymore! *shares celebratory iced caramel mocha* P.S.- I love horses as well! I was actually working on my cousin's farm while writing this- which is in the middle of nowhere, where there isn't any WiFi. So blame my lack of updates on my inspiration lol(:

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><p><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong>** I don't own anything or anyone you recognize from Disney's **_**The Newsies. **_**I do own Bell Brooks, the horses (Piccadilly, Reese, Siam, Hamlet, Patchy, Yvonne, Brandi, Rio, Spencer, Daphne, Xavier, Hannah, Blue, Wieldier, Camino, Fiore, Ellice, and Lucky) and all things you don't recognize from the movie. **

**The character Hayley "Candy" Everett was donated to this story by fanfictioner DiAmOnDsrBlUe on her own consent. **

**The characters Idan "Legend" Tyler, Nero "Wolfy" Tyler, and Erica "Dreamer" Larkinson were all created and donated to this story by author TheFlyingSeal on her own consent.**

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><p><strong>WARNING:<strong>** This story contains vicious and eyebrow-raisingly creative cursing, spanning a wide scale of languages, ethnicities, and social statuses. Do not be alarmed. **

**Oh, and there's some romantical awkwardness in there somewhere… (:**

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 3:<strong>_

_**Secrets That Hurt Aren't Really Secrets After All**_

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><p>An icy gust of wind raked across my bare flesh, lashing at my pale eyes until they watered. Temporarily blinded by the violent downpour, I slipped on the rain-soaked cobblestones, sending me sharply down on my hands and knees into a puddle. A pathetic whimper was wrung out of me as I felt the palm of my left hand scrape against a particularly rough stone, and I gulped disgustedly as faint, smoke-like wisps of crimson began to stain the puddle.<p>

I knew I should have agreed to walk back with Candy.

The petite toffee-skinned girl had begged me to come with her to Mortie's again for dinner with the boys, but I'd been too engrossed with braiding Lucky's mane. I'd waved off her offer to head back together again and again, until she finally gave up on trying to convince me and left by herself.

And now I was soaked to the bone and on the verge of passing out from exhaustion of trying to walk- more like swim- back to the Boarding House, all because I wanted to finish _plaiting my horse's mane_ for another half-an-hour.

Biting my lip viciously in effort, I heaved myself up from my knees, sighing with relief as I steadied myself. But God or some higher power must have been feeling incredibly cruel today, because I hadn't been standing there for three seconds before I heard an annoyingly familiar voice in my ear.

"Hey there, Belladonna." I flinched as a cloud of whiskey and cigar-smoke smelling breath enveloped my senses before dissipating into the cold rain. He sloppily threw a arm around my shoulders before adding in a painfully idiotic attempt of a seductive voice, "Need a little manly assistance?"

"Like I said earlier, Oscar," Bile rose in my throat at his drunken advances- could my day get any worse than this? I threw his arm off my back, taking two huge steps back. "Fuck off."

"Mmm… I don't think so." The otherwise handsome Italian tossed a half-empty bottle of whiskey down his throat before stumbling forward, hand extended as though to caress my cheek.

When I shivered disgustedly out of his reach, Oscar's face creased with anger. He reached for me once more with a demanding look in his eyes, and I jumped away from his wandering hands again.

Feeling the fear bubbling up inside of me, I cried out, "Oscar, stop!" as he swiped ravenously for me again.

Oscar's expression split with rage, as though he suddenly realized I'd rejected him, and with a snarl of vehemence, he lunged forward. I barely managed to dance out of his grasp this time and, terror shooting through my body like a sickness, flat out sprinted down the vacant street. The rage-stricken man thundered right after me; I could hear him clomping and spluttering behind me.

I tried, I really did, to run from him; but I was exhausted. As he chased me down, I slowly felt myself fading. My legs ached painfully from a hard day's work already, and each brutal step sent agonizing pain shooting up my spine. There was no way I could go all the way back to the Boarding House or Mortie's dead-sprint- even my fatigued mind could calculate that much.

I could feel him gaining on me, and I mean literally; his random reaches were getting closer and closer to my waist, the swipes almost touching the small of my back. In a last attempt to escape Oscar, I changed course abruptly and, sliding across the slick cobblestones once again, pelted hell-bent into the nearest alleyway.

It all happened so fast; I felt Oscar grab hold of the back of my collar, yanking me back my the throat. I gasped and writhed, desperately flashing out a hand and catching him sharply across the cheek. With a roar, Oscar hauled me up by my shirt and hurled me ferociously into the brick wall of the alley.

I let out a cry of pain as my body slammed into the wall, and then feeling something break, I crumbled to the ground with a whimper of agony. Oscar's sick grin burned into my vision as it danced with vivid black spots.

It was as though I was detached from my own body, watching the scene from above my own body; Oscar started forward, his bottle clenched in his fist. I tried to move away, but my body shrieked with unspeakable pain from even the smallest movement. My ears were ringing with my own pained screaming… but the funny thing was, I wasn't screaming.

And suddenly, a shape made of shadows leap from the edge of my vision at Oscar, fists flying and screeching murderously, the words spitting from its mouth strange and foreign on my ears.

_The rain was on my face, rolling down my cheeks like the tears I couldn't shed._

"You fucking fool!"

_I was unable to move, unable to speak or scream in agony… But even if I could, I don't think I'd want to…_

"I'll kill you- don't think I won't!"

The sky glowed beautifully with lightning. Who knew something so terrifying could be so beautiful…

"Never touch her again, Oscar, or I swear you'll wake up in hell."

_So beautiful…_

His hands were on my face, cupping my cheeks as he stared at me with those captivating blue eyes.

_Such icy blue eyes…_

"Bell?" He felt my wrist for a pulse. "Bell, can you hear me?"

_Yes… can you hear me?_

"Bell!" Panic took over his gaze, almost wrenching my heart straight from my chest. "Bell, say something!"

_I'm trying, I really am…_

"Bell…" He whispered, rain dripping off his face onto mine. I tasted salt.

Seeing him so overwrought, a bright spot of heat abruptly shivered up my spine, through my body, my heart, and up to my lips. Suddenly, a ghost of movement rushed through my lips.

"Spot…" I rasped painfully. "Help… m…"

_And then the blackness..._


	4. Remembering the Puppy in the Window

**Author's Note:** **Hey hey hey ladieeeees! Hey hey hey ladieeeeees! And men… I suppose. Those who are interested in Spot Conlon romances. Well, the heart wants what the heart wants… goodness, it's getting quite awkward now. I think I'll just shut up and go sit quietly in the corner…**

**But first an announcement!**

**This chappie is told from half-Bell, half- Spot POV. X Spot fangirls cheer loudly x And why am I giving Spotty's side of the story? **

**Well, it **_**is **_**my story, so I guess it's simply that **_**I can. **_**So **_**there. **_

**Anyways, this has been fun, but I get the feeling I'm boring you all. Nothing personal, I get it, you want to read the story and here I am, rambling on, and on, and on… **

**I'll just go with my former plan: shut up and go sit in the corner whilst you read the chapter I slaved over for hours… **

**I am so very hurt. x dramatic sniff x BUT I SHALL GO ON! JUST AS YOU GO ON TO READ THIS CHAPTER! **

**Until next time, **

**-V**

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><p><span>Review Responses:<span>

MysteryGirl: Lol, I'm glad I have such dedicated fans already! Trust me, I have some aces up my sleeve that are deliciously surprising… stay tuned, MysteryGirl!

Joker is Poker with a J: Yes, yes, I know… short chappie, long update time. Sue me! But anyways, thank you for the compliments(: I hope you enjoy this chappie a bit better; I'm attempting to write longer chapters and be more descriptive with my writings. Please continue reading and reviewing!

FlyingBoppers: Bwahahaha! Goodness, you're review made me laugh! Literally! I started cracking up quite loudly, and my friend thought I was crazy- until I read her the comment, at which point she started LOLing like there was no tomorrow… Seriously, it made my da- oh, right. You're not talking to me. I see how it is… Well, I'm not talking to _you either! _Hah, how you like them apples? Oh, wait…

Maryarin: Lawdy, I still can't believe that Maryarin- the author of _Gravity_, one of my gems in my treasured Spot x OC collection- is actually reviewing my story! And it sounds like you're enjoying it too, which is a huge happy-boost for me(: Thanks so much for taking an interest in a fellow Spot admirer's stories!

SilverShoes17: Yes, I'm not a fan of the 'damsel' image, _especially _for Bell- she's not someone to rely on the prince to save the day. She'd most likely grab the bastard's sword and start chopping up some dragons herself… But as far as that chapter went, Bell was unable to really separate imagination from reality; the physical pain blocked her ability to comprehend the control of her own body. Almost like an awake-coma of sorts. And I love weaving the relationships in this Fic- they're all so fun to bond together!

TheFlyingSeal: Hehe! You show Oscar, you teach him for getting ballsey with my Bell XP And yes! DAMN MY WRITER'S BLOCK TO THE DEEPEST CIRCLE OF HELL! Also, your characters finally get into the story after this chappie… though they may or may not have changed boroughs… if you have concerns/complaints, feel free to PM me.

DiAmOnDsrBlUe: You get the biggest fan award(: I can't fathom my appreciation for your enthusiasm, it's helped me pull through my remaining writer's block and conjure up this chapter!

Sarah The Phoenix Trainer: YES. Thank you for the addition. Don't hate me, but it might be a bit before we see her… I just need to get past a few key plot points, then we'll be good.

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><p><strong>DISCLAIMER:<strong>** Ditto to the last few disclaimers… The OCs besides Bell Brooks and a few others belong to their respected owners- you know who you are- and er'rthang else is Disney's. Danka.**

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><p><strong>WARNING:<strong>** Contains cursing, suggestive themes, and comments that **_**may**_** be considered offensive to religion or race. I myself have no issues with said peoples and do not mean any intentional harm to them or any of their affiliates. Double danka.**

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 4:<strong>_

_**Remembering the Puppy in the Window**_

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><p><em>It had been almost nine summers ago.<em>

_We'd both been young, young enough for us to run around the city barefoot during the summer and have rich folk coo and murmur in our wake. In all honesty it was probably the last happy memory I had of Spot- or as I called him so lovingly back then, Damien._

_On the very last day of summer, Damien had taken me down to the docks of Brooklyn one last time. We'd wiled away the dwindling hours of remaining sunshine swimming in the river, splashing each other playfully back and forth, and having races around the docks. We climbed out when the sun dipped low on the buildings, creating long, slanting shadows across the pavement. Damien and I, desperately trying to preserve every last drop of summertime, took up our perch atop a large stack of crates and watched the sun set together. _

_It was there, sitting so peacefully amongst the worn old nets and mildewed planks, talking and laughing so easily with one another, that I realized just how much I cared about Damien. _

_Up until the day he became King of Brooklyn, Damien had always been on my side. He'd looked out for me; a guard dog of sorts. But, yet, he was still full of childlike innocence; which every child has a right to. So he was more like a puppy than a dog, really. I could see it already… Damien Conlon- the guard puppy._

_No… Damien Conlon- _my _guard puppy…_

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><p>I watched as her chest rose and fell, thankful for each intake of breath she took in her slumbering state. Every time an inhalation was slightly delayed, though, my heart would almost stop in my chest and I'd clench my hand tighter around her cold, milky-white fingers until she resumed breathing normally.<p>

This had been going on for the last two days- the sleeping girl would fall behind on her breathing, I'd panic for an agonizingly long moment, then she'd resume her intake of air, leaving me to breathe out softly in silent thanks. Wolfy, my trusty lieutenant had tried half-heartedly to coax me out of the small bedroom a few times with promises of beef stew, fresh bread, and other miscellaneous food items I'd usually jump at the chance to get my hands on.

But right now, no food- or anything for that matter- would be able to take my mind off of this young woman currently sleeping snugly in my bed. Inside, I knew Wolfy knew that, but it didn't stop him from worrying about my general well-being- that was just how Wolfy was. He always felt better when he knew all members of his 'pack' were healthy and mentally sound, otherwise he got nervous and rather annoying…

My head shot up as my eyes began to drift closed. _No, _I thought earnestly, shaking my head violently as though to clean water out of my ears, _Bell. Remember Bell._

I glanced down at said slumbering maiden and felt my breath catch in my throat; she was practically a different person since I'd last seen her.

Sure, it had been six years, but why did she look so wildly different to me? I'd remembered her hair being shorter, her skin not quite so pale or so smooth, and her body had definitely been far less… shapely, to say the least.

I felt a hot blush creep over my cheeks as I wrenched my eyes away from her curvy figure, instead focusing on her little cold hand in mine. It was the left hand- the right was currently wrapped tight in a sling because of a painful fracture found in her shoulder from getting slammed into the wall by that good-for-nothing bastard Oscar.

Instantly I felt the familiar wave of protective fury wash over me. I clenched my jaw, though it hurt like hell- the idiot had thought it'd be funny to sucker-punch me when I'd gone over to check on Bell. He hadn't been laughing when I'd decked him right in his non-existent balls, sending him scampering away with his tail between his legs. He'd tried to hurt her.

He'd tried to hurt Avery. _My _Avery.

"Don't worry, Bell," I mustered a tired smirk, though I was talking mostly to myself. "Oscar won't be bothering you anymore."

"He… won't… be?"

I looked back at Bell- who, in my mini-reverie, must have awoken- to find her staring at me with heavy-lidded hazel eyes. The breath just about deflated my lungs, I stared at her with such unmasked surprise.

"…Avery?"

The pretty brunette flinched at the use of her name. "Don't call me that."

I wrinkled my nose in surprise, grasping her hand in mine gently. "I thought you loved it when I'd call you by your first name."

"Not anymore."

Now it was my turn to flinch- though it was inward- as I snapped back icily, "I haven't seen you in years, just saved your sorry ass, and let you sleep for two whole days in _my _bed. Why can't I call you by your real name?"

And then Avery turned those big, accusing, hazel eyes on me and said with a voice like daggers,

"Because I don't know who the hell you are, and I don't think you know who I am either, Spot Conlon."


	5. She's Got to Love Nobody

**Author's Note: ****YESSSSS! LONG CHAPPIE FOR ALL! So go go go and read it!**

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><p><strong>REVIEW RESPONSES:<strong>

***I'm skipping review responses today because I wanna show you this longer chapter ASAP(: ***

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><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN, NOW READ.<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 5:<strong>_

_**She's Got to Love Nobody**_

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><p>He stood there, still as stone, for a very long moment. It was unnerving how his cyan gaze, only moments ago caring and lovingly gracing my features, were now darkening dangerously at my last biting comment.<p>

"Take it back."

I shivered as his frosty tone hit my eardrums like daggers, but refused to lower my gaze from his commanding glare. He was daring me to deny my former accusation, and I knew it. I had to admit, I'd had some balls to say a thing like that-

"_I don't know who the hell you are,_ _and I don't think you know who I am either, Spot Conlon…"_

-Knowing that it would enrage him. And it had, because, deep, deep down, under that famous, stony glare, enormous ego, and impeccable reputation, Spot knew I was right. It had been _six years _since we'd seen each other, and god knows we'd changed. I knew _I _had at least- both bodily and mentally- but Spot hadn't seemed to mind that I'd been gone. In fact, he'd prospered while I'd been gone. Just one look in those powerful azure eyes and I knew my Damien was gone forever.

And being the emotional moron I was, the second I thought of Damien I was awash with that painful stab of emotions; this encounter brought back so many memories of neglect, heartbreak, and loss at his hand that I nearly broke down and let him win. But a small voice piped up from the corner of my mind, whispering softly to me,

"_Don't let him win, Bell. He's looking for the girl you used to be- the one who would be delighted to see him again, and to receive his praise. You're not that girl anymore, Bell Brooks. You're not Avery."_

The mere reminder of my real name sent a flash of remorse- leave it to Spot to remind me of my past life- but I pushed it to the back of my mind. The voice was right, after all. I wasn't Avery anymore. I was Bell. And furthermore, I intended to stay that way.

And so I squared my shoulders, set my jaw firmly, and spat the dangerous word at him:

"No."

That was all it took; Spot's handsome blue eyes narrowed, and he leaned towards me with a dark look on his face. Alarmed at his sudden approach, I scooted nervously away from him, clutching my wounded arm to my chest. But his eyes only glittered dangerously as he pursued me across his bed, and I skittered away from his advances, until, unfortunately, my back thudded against the cold wooden wall. I was trapped. Now I could do nothing but stare in muffled horror as Spot leaned over me, until his mouth found my ear.

"Do ya have any clue what Oscar woulda done to ya if I hadn't come along in time?" He murmured frostily, his jaw brushing against mine, making me shiver with something between disgust and longing. "He woulda beat you, then had his way with ya. An' when he was done with ya, he woulda left you lyin' there in that alleyway ta die. I _saved _you from that, Bell, just like I always have."

It was that last sentence that got me; I didn't like being the damsel in distress _at all_, and I didn't make a habit of being one. And how _dare _Spot claim to have always been there for me when he had been the one pushing me away in the first place!

"Oh, save it, Spot." I hissed wryly, using my good arm to push him off me. "You haven't saved me from anything. Stop pumping your ego fuller than it needs to be."

Spot furrowed his brow doggishly at me. "Bell, Oscar would have-"

"I _know _what he would have done, Spot," I surprised both of us by cutting him off so rudely; it wasn't like me to interrupt. "And that's not what I mean."

He gave me a baffled look, leaning back on his heels as to give me a bit of much-needed space. I took his perplexed gaze as an 'okay, I'm listening' gesture.

"Okay, you saved me this _once _from a stitch, I'll admit it; I won't let my pride get in the way of giving you acknowledgement for that." I sighed annoyedly as he smirked down at me.

"But there was a reason I left in the first place. A few, actually." I felt him stiffen at the mention of my escape, but continued when he didn't object. "One: I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without your permission. Do you have any idea how maddening it is to be stuck in this damn house almost all day? I could leave to sell papes and work, of course, but there was no going out, no socializing, no _nothing. _Shit, you wouldn't even let me come down for poker night!" I exclaimed in sudden earnest, cutting off anything he tried to add and allowing me to continue berating him.

Two: no matter how hard I worked, you constantly belittled me because of my sex. It was all 'women can't work as hard as men'- well, hell, _I _worked just as hard, if not harder than you or any of your boys, Spot Conlon, and _you know it." _I hissed quietly, staring him straight in the eye. He gazed pointedly at me, because looking away would mean agreeing with the accusation.

"Bell, I think that's a little-"

"_I'm not finished_, Damien." I snapped, and he shut up instantly at the mention of his real name, though he continued to glower at me, which I promptly ignored. "Lastly, three: I was always alone. You were too busy to care about me, and you didn't want anyone else getting close to me either. Don't try to deny it," I held up a hand as he began to defend himself. "Spot, you were jealous of any guy I'd so much as talk to. You were afraid I'd replace you, and yet…" I stopped to chuckle bitterly. "You yourself didn't want to spend time with me. You were always busy with your whores-" I smirked humorlessly, then added, "-Sorry, 'special friends'. Either way, you were never around, and I was alone."

The last word came out as a murmur. I was very nearly in tears now, remembering the final days I'd spent in this horrid shack. I knew Spot was staring at me, and very intently at that. Although he had his eyes trained on my face in a way that made my stomach squirm, I kept my eyes facing downwards, fearing his response. What I'd said had been very risky to say aloud, but it had also been true.

And there was no way in hell I'd be taking it back.

"Ya haven't changed at all, Bell," I flinched as Spot finally spoke. "Ya'd still fight every last rule I set for ya till it was nothing was left. An' sometimes that's good, bein' a fighter, but sometimes," I flinched in surprise as he ran his hand along my jawline, tracing the apple of my cheek with his thumb and tilting my chin up with his index finger. "But sometimes it can get you killed."

Leaving those sinister words hanging in the air, Spot turned, pushed himself off the bed, and disappeared down the hallway. I chuckled humorlessly to myself as the door closed behind him, feeling tears prick my eyes. Wasn't I used to being left alone by now?

"Oh, I almost forgot," My head shot up at the sound of his voice. He stood halfway inside the room, the door slightly ajar, with a smug smile. "Jack came by awhile ago, before ya woke up. Said he needed to deal with some 'issues' back in 'Hattan that involved beating the royal shit outta the Delanceys for hurtin' ya, and that it was better if ya stayed here while ya healed. So I guess we'll have plenty a time ta discuss all this before ys leave." Spot gave me another arrogant smirk that didn't reach his eyes, before he pulled the door shut with a bang.

I listened to his footsteps retreat down the hallway, waiting until they disappeared completely before I grabbed the pillow off his bed. For a moment, I just stared down at the worn sack of feathers, wondering fleetingly how many other girl's had laid their heads on it before me.

I then promptly buried my face in it and screamed.


	6. Mother Who Bore Me

**Author's Note:**** Yes, the day has finally come! A SUPER LONG CHAPPIE! At 3,090 words, it's the longest chapter in TMOF as of now(: Enjoy, m'dears.**

**-V**

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><p><strong>REVIEW RESPONSES:<strong>

FlyingBoppers: LOOK I'M RESPONDING TO YOUR REVIEW FIRST! THAT SHOWS I CARE! JESUS! * huff* (: Thanks for the excitement, I hope this chappie won't disappoint you!

Joker is Poker with a J: I know! I just love abusing my OCs… don't you? (;

DiAmOnDsrBlUe: Goodness, I just adore you, child! There really isn't anything else to say but GEE, THANKS FOR LOVING ME! I J'ADORE YOU AND ALL YOUR SPUNKY AWESOMENESS TOO!

TheFlyingSeal: Hehe, she's having issues… and I mean, wouldn't you if you were Bell? Unless you were a robot, I bet you'd be confused and angry at this point too. But, yea, poor Spot… no make-up sex for you… (: Oh, exhaustion makes me a very dirty person, forget I said that.

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><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN, DARLINGS, THOUGH I WISH I DID. Enjoy!<strong>

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><p><em><strong>Chapter 6:<strong>_

_**Mother Who Bore Me**_

After I was done screaming out all my growing frustrations into that unfortunate pillow, I was spent. I curled up in the center of Spot's bed, wrapped his paper-thin quilt tightly around me, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

My dreams were haunted by the dead.

I dreamed that I was trapped in a maze of mirrors, and everywhere I turned, the warped, demonic faces of my beloved dead smirked out at me. Ma, Pa, even Jeanette, her curls as dark red and springy as the day she died… they all stared out at me with a flat, evil scorn. And, in the same low, creepy whisper, they rasped in perfect unison:

"Join us, Avery. You know you want to."

I staggered through the labyrinth in a blind terror, trying with no avail to escape their haunting words. Each syllable reverberated inside my head like two metal trashcan lids crashing together again and again. It was perfectly horrid, the way their faces glowed with ghastly shadows, awful sneers plastered across their ghoulish faces. But the worst was their eyes.

Cold, white eyes so obviously sightless, and yet stared into the very depths of my soul with horrific clarity. It was as though they could reach right into my mind and sift so easily through every thought, memory, and feeling I'd ever had. And there was nothing I could do but stare in silent horror as they reached out with ghostly transparent hands to stroke my exposed flesh.

"You _know _you want to, Avery."

"No…" I quavered, their icy fingers chilling me to the bone instantly. "Please, stop."

"But, Avery, don't you miss us?" Mirror Pa gave me an uncharacteristic smirk, sliding a freezing-cold translucent hand over my hair. The gesture was so sweetly parental, yet chillingly murderous. "Don't you want to stay with us?"

"I said stop it, Pa." I whispered almost inaudibly, pulling away from their hands weakly. Ma leered at my pitiful escape attempt.

"But, Avery, don't you want to be with us?" Jeanette simpered frostily, her ice-covered fingertips dancing between my shoulder blades. "Don't you love us?"

"Yes, don't you love us? Don't you love us? Don't you love us?" They all chorused.

"No, no, no…" I rasped, my voice thick with tears. "You're not here. It isn't you I love…"

"But you love your Ma, don't you, Avery?"

"Yes, but-"

"And you love your Pa, don't you, Avery?"

"Yes, I do, it's just-"

"And you love your little sister, don't you, Avery?"

"Yes! I do, but you're not-"

"But we are." They cooed sickeningly, brushing their ghostly fingers through my hair. "We are your family, love, and we want you to be with us." They parted to reveal one last mirror.

"No!" I shrieked, rushing backwards to escape them. Terror shot through me like icicles as the girl inside the mirror blinked her evocative white eyes at me, flicked her auburn hair over her lucid shoulders, and sneered in a way that was just too familiar for me to handle.

"No… It c-can't be…" I whimpered and buried my face in my hands. But even then, I still had to stare at her through my fingers. It was impossible… and yet, I was still terrified.

Because that girl inside the mirror was me.

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><p>I woke up crying. Great heaving sobs ripped through my chest for no apparent reason and I sat up in a tearfully bewildered stupor. I lowered my head between my legs and tried to take deep, calming breaths while I attempted to sort out where I was and what I had just seen.<p>

It had been me in the mirror, that much I knew, but why was my deceased family acting so unlike themselves? Usually my dreams concerning my dead parents and little sister were warm, happy, and comforting. But in this one they seemed hell-bent on terrifying me; and they had, to say the least.

But _why _were they trying so hard to make me join them? That was the real question that needed to be answered here; why was my own family trying to convince me to kill myself and unite with them? Was it just my mind playing tricks on me, or had they actually been pretty real? Considering that I was a sobbing, teary mess, I was opting for option two. I mean, it felt so _real..._

Suddenly the darkened room felt too small; it constricted, tightened around my lungs with each deep breath I took to try to soothe myself.

I had to get out of this room.

Numbly, I pulled myself up from the bed, wincing as my arm throbbed in response. After stumbling over random thing in the dark a few hundred times, almost breaking my shins twice, and knocking over the side table beside Spot's bed, I managed to work my way to the door. With a surge of growing strength, I turned the knob and wrenched the door open.

I was instantly greeted by a wave of disgusting man-stench. Wrinkling my nose, I added this as one of the reasons I hated the Brooklyn Lodging House- the smell. At least in Manhattan they'd _tried _to be clean, I noted as I surveyed the darkened bunkroom with unmasked disgust. Here, they just acted like pigs in a sty. It was absolutely repulsive.

I gave the slovenly bunkroom one final look of lingering repugnance before turning and heading down the stairs.

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><p>"I play two fours." Duran flicked his soft brown locks out of his dark green eyes as he slammed two faded blue cards on the equally faded pine table. The bird crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair with a sharp leer on his face, daring anyone to question his wager.<p>

"Oh, bullshit, Duran!" I spat out. "You ain't foolin' no one wit' _that _poker face."

Duran scowled venomously at the jab. "Ya callin' me a liar, Wolfy?"

I shrugged at him. Better to make him think he'd won, then humiliate em' I'd say. So as soon as Duran let his guard down and began to relax in his chair again, I reached across the table and flipped his cards over. A seven and a king. Just as I had suspected.

"Hah! I win! Pay up, homes!"

"Fuck you, Wolfson." I grinned victoriously as the stocky bird leaned over and gathered up the growing mountain of cards. He glared at me as the other boys laughed and jeered at his expense. "This is why I gave up gamblin' in tha firs' place…"

"Sure it is." Spot smirked, then made the 'gimmie gimmie' gesture with his fingers. "Now shell it out."

Duran gave me another atrocious glare before digging around in his pockets for the money he'd just lost. He found the few nickels he owed me and tossed them at me before turning along with a rude hang gesture, then stormed into the kitchen. His decidedly boneheaded henchman, Spike, instantly rose and lumbered after him.

The rest of us returned to the game without a second thought; Durand was the sore loser of the group, but he was a damn good bird and one of Spot's most trusted advisors, which was the only reason we put up with his bitching and moaning so good-naturedly. All of us would have completely forgotten about Durand's storm out if it hadn't been for one of the younger newsies, a little freckled quip named Sparky.

"D'ya think they'll be okay?"

Spot mussed the kid's shock of dark red-gold hair, the source of his namesake. "'Course, Spark. Don't ya worry 'bout Duran- he's used to losing at BS by now. An' Spike is just an idiot who follows him 'round like a puppy. Don't matter anyhow," Spot slapped down a card and declared it a seven, though I already knew it was a queen, and gave his favorite birdie his famous 'lady-wooing' smirk. "S'not like they're botherin' you."

"Naw, not _them,_" Sparky shook his little ginger head so hard I thought it was gonna pop off and roll across the floor. "I'se talkin' 'bout tha girl."

At the very mention of the 'g' word, our fearless leader looked up from his cards, blue eyes burning with sudden intensity. "What gir-"

We all jumped as a high-pitched scream reverberated throughout the Lodging House, followed by a loud crash and muffled cursing. A moment of silence passed, then everyone dropped their cards and ran for the kitchen door like our lives depended on it. And judging from the dangerous look so unfortunately gracing Spot's mug, it probably did. He cared so much about that girl, and I had no idea why…

Spot threw the door open and disappeared inside, me hot on his heels. I hurled the door open, ran in-

And we both froze.

It was chaos. Flour was everywhere, coating every surface in the room with thick, white powder. Duran seemed to have gotten hit with the open flour sack right in the face, because he was crouched on the floor coughing up a pile of the snowy dust. Spike was also covered in the white powder, though not nearly as bad as Duran- who I'd dubbed Snowman at this point- and was cornering the girl in the far corner. I had no clue what the faceless girl had done to the both of them, but god! If looks could kill, she'd be stone cold dead.

I suddenly struck me that, although this muscled newsie was cornering her, with quite dangerous intentions at that, the faceless girl didn't even scream. No shivering in fear, no sobbing maniacally, no nothing. If anything, she seemed to be _taunting _the guy. Her eyes were narrowed acerbically, hazel irises never leaving Spike's smaller grey ones, her lips drawn back over her teeth in a display of feral dominance, and I could have sworn I heard her _growl _at him.

Spike narrowed his small eyes at her gall. It was strange for a girl to be so daring, and it was obviously disconcerting for him to wrap his tiny mind around. But he didn't stop to do so- no surprise there- instead reaching out to grab her by the wrist-

And that's when BAM! She clocked him right in the nose.

I don't know who was more shocked; Spike, or the onlookers. I swear I'd heard a few "Damn…"'s echoing from the crowd outside the door; I mean, the guy _flew _backwards from the force! And Faceless Girl just stood there in the corner, cheeks flushed with chagrin, and _smirking _at _me. _

I did a double take. Oh no, she wasn't looking at me- she was staring directly at Spot. Now, I would have normally dismissed this as just her flirting with him- like most girls usually do- but she had this smugness about her that seemed to want to lean over and thump Spot's forehead. Something told me she'd been trying to prove herself to him… whether it was the punching, or what, she just had this independent vibe about her. And Jesus, that girl had quite an arm! I made a mental note not to get on her bad side.

To make things even more shocking, His Royal Bastardness was staring straight at her with unmasked shock. Spot _never _acted surprised; there wasn't a reason for him to be. He always knew what was happening, and what to do about it.

But this Faceless Girl- well, now Nameless Girl, since I could see her face now. And _damn_, this girl sure had one on her- had him acting strangely. First, Spot wouldn't leave her bedside, much to my annoyance, and now the guy was actually _taken aback _by her actions. The fucking King of Brooklyn was shocked into a stupor by a… a _woman._ Do wonders never cease? !

But His Highness snapped out of it quickly, sadly. He was back to his high-and-mighty self, regarding her with cool blue eyes.

"What's going on here?" He queried, eyeing the crumpled forms of Duran and Spike.

"Oh, come on, Spotty," Nameless Girl groused playfully, readjusting the sling- the sling!- on her right arm. "It's _Brooklyn_. What do you _think _happened?"

His Kinglyness wasn't amused by Nameless Girl's joking. In fact, he actually looked a little pissed. I'm not quite sure why I was confused by this- I mean, it was _Spot_, after all, the least stable guy I know- but I was. Maybe it was him getting defensive over someone other than his newsies…

"They _came onto you?_"

Nameless Girl shrugged noncommittally, like getting groped by a random guy and then taking both him and his buff friend down singlehandedly was just a run-of-the-mill day for her; I wouldn't be surprised if it was, to be honest.

"Wolfy," Spot muttered, his cyan gaze adverted to the two whimpering figures lying pathetically on the floor. "Get her upstairs while I deal with these two." I nodded mechanically, setting off across the room towards Nameless Girl. Though she looked apprehensive, she allowed me to lead her out by the arm.

I thought the crowd of boys waiting outside the kitchen door would be a problem, but they moved easily out of the way. I got her out of the room and up the stairs before they started murmuring amongst themselves. Although I didn't hear much, they clearly respected her already.

Now, _that _was saying something; the Brooklynites were a tough crowd and it took a lot to impress them. For her to have already gained their admiration in her first day here was impeccable. This _girl _was absolutely _insane_, I had to say, but she had guts… and with those huge hazel eyes, long, wavy auburn locks, and curvy figure, to say she was easy on the eyes would be an understatement.

I don't care what Nameless Girl's real name is, from this day forward I'm calling her Punches.

* * *

><p>I let the strange boy with yellow eyes lead me up the stairs and back into Spot's room without complaint. I was too tired to complain anyway.<p>

He opened the door for me and I walked past him without making eye contact; those yellow eyes were freaking me out. I went to sit on the bed, but the moment my fingers touched the sheets, my family's ghastly faces appeared in the semi-darkness. I shivered away from the bed like it was covered in hoarfrost. But in the darkness of the room, I obviously couldn't see where I was going and accidentally collided with Strange Yellow Eyes Boy.

"Woah, Punches!" He hooted, sliding his arm around my waist to steady me. This level of physical closeness made my face flush beet red, and I was silently thankful for the darkness.

"Oops-um… I'm sorry about…" I stuttered, stepping back from him in embarrassment. "I… um…"

"Hey, don't sweat it, girly." He assured me. I couldn't help noticing he shaded amusement layered in his voice. "Not everyone can see as well as I can in the dark. Prob'ly why they call me Wolfy…"

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Wolfy." I stuck out my hand to shake his. "I'm Bell Brooks. I'm not sure why they called me Bell, but I'm sure there's a good reason behind it."

I felt his calloused hand meet mine midway and heard the smile in his voice as he said, "Bell's a pretty name. But I hate ta tell ya this; ya'll always be Punches ta me, girly."

I grinned, hoping Wolfy could see it in the dark. "That's fine by me, _Shaggy_."

"Shut up." He snickered doggishly, flicking my ear gently. "You rapscallion, you."

I blinked as the door swung open suddenly and engulfed us in the weak light of the hallway. An unnamed newsie's silhouette was outlined against the feeble candlelight as he leaned ever-so-slightly into the room.

"Sorry, kids. Didn't mean ta interrupt or nothin', but they need your help downstairs, Wolfy."

"Shuddup, Ringo." In the flickering light, I saw Wolfy's face transform into a commanding sneer towards the other boy 'Ringo'. "Was jus' makin' sure Punches here was a'ight from her lil' scuffle downstairs. Anyone wit' a halfa brain could see tha she don't want no one touchin' her an'ways, so no need ta be jealous."

And with those decisive words still hanging in the air, Wolfy winked cheekily at me, then swaggered past a silently fuming Ringo into the darkness. As soon as the door fell closed, I fell back onto the bed in a giggling fit. God, that Wolfy was funny…

"What's so funny?"

I glanced up, though I could barely see anything but a boy's shape outlined against the half-open door. I sighed- leave it to Spot to interrupt the only entertaining moment I'd had since I'd arrived here.

"Nothing; Wolfy just said something sassy to Ringo."

"Typical Wolfy," He replied, closing the door and joining me on the bed. "He's a great guy. A real strong and faithful type. He's the best deputy I've ever had."

I nodded mutely- I wouldn't know anything about the character of a good deputy, and frankly didn't care. But this was the first non-hostile conversation I'd had with Spot in awhile, and I wasn't about to go and ruin it.

"You look pale."

I sighed. Conversation ruined.

"No, I'm just sayin' that your cheeks don't look so pink. Almost like ya saw a ghost or somethin'."

_A ghost or something. _

"Um, yeah… or something…" I muttered, feeling the exhaustion pressing down on my eyelids. Beating up guys really took it out of you…

The world around me was slowing into a dreamy blur- I remember Spot lifting me up gently in his arms and placing me back down in his bed, softly as you would a baby. He tucked in his blankets around me, then turned to go. But I didn't want him to.

"Wait, Spot…" I yawned sleepily. "Stay."

My tired mind could keep up with the many conflicting emotions going across his face. "Bell…"

"Spot, please." I pleaded with him. All I knew was that if he left, then the dreams would come back… and I didn't want that. No, not at all. Plus, he looked so warm…

Finally, Spot gave in. With a sigh, he slid into the bed with me, wrapping me up in his arms. Mmmm… he smelled just like he had so long ago… that made me feel warm inside as well as outside.

"G'night, Damien."

"Night, Avery."


	7. A Note from the Author

Dear Readers,

I am sad to say that this account is now being vacated. I've decided to start anew and move on to another account and begin again. There was just too many stories to continue and too many disappointed readers... So I am going to try this again. This is not to say that all the stories I've written on this account will be done with forever, not at all. Some will be put up for adoption for other writers to continue with, and the more popular ones will be redrafted into Word Documents and reposted on my new account. The list of those stories are below!

Stories Up for Adoption:

(PM me if you're interested; this is a first come, first serve basis, and no stories will be held for any particular writers!)

The Meaning of Forever

Oscuri Segreti

What's It To You?

The City

Undecided

The Fence

Now You See Me

My Darling Little Divas

Dirty Little Secrets

Cloudy With a Chance of Magical Encounters

All That is Good

The Forgotten Ones

Over the Stars and Back

Tales of the Kits/Warrior Name Contest

Too Close for Comfort

The Water Tribes: First Light

Forbidden Fruit

Endless Night

Stories that will be reposted at a later time:

****Sue Me

Wolf Runner

Just to Be

Oh My Lordy!

****And that just about covers it... I just want to say that you have all been such amazing readers and I couldn't ask for a better lot of people to review my stories. Stay strong, keep on writing.

Signing off,

V

P.S.

Here's my new account, if you're interested(:


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